


Cafe Reunion

by knowyourincantations



Series: Femslash February 2019 [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Don't copy to another site, F/F, Femslash February, Femslash February 2019, Getting Back Together, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 01:03:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17653049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knowyourincantations/pseuds/knowyourincantations
Summary: After parting just as the war fully broke out, Hermione hasn't seen Pansy for over a year before getting a letter with a time and place to meet as Pansy returns to England.Loose followup to my fic'It's Only Goodbye for Now', but can be read on its own.





	Cafe Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Femslash February Day 4, for the prompt 'Cafe'.
> 
> This is sort of written as a loose followup to one of the pieces I wrote for Sapphic September last year. You can find that [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15991775), but this should be able to be read on its own anyway.

Even though she had checked it only moments before, Hermione glanced at her watch. She was still early. With a frustrated huff, she waved off the hostess again when she made a beeline for Hermione’s table.

They probably thought she was being stood up. She still might be. Merlin, why did she have to go and get there so early?

There was a book in her bag but she couldn’t bring herself to pull it out. If she was reading she would miss the moment Pansy arrived. She might miss her lingering and ultimately turning away. It had been over a year, that was likely.

No, it was better she kept alert to her surroundings. She was facing the door and the windows facing the street. Better that she know if Pansy showed up only to leave without speaking to her.

The letter was in her bag too, crumpled from being read so many times. It was short and gave nothing away, just a time and a place. Hermione had read it so many times to try and glean some kind of meaning from the handwriting, the grammar usage.

A year was a long time.

If Pansy did show up only to leave, would she chase after her? Should she?

It had been so long since they had meant anything to each other. So long since their tearful farewell.

A light jingle caught her attention. The door.

Lost in thought, she’d missed her approach altogether. Blind even though she was looking right at her.

Pansy wove her way through the tables gracefully and Hermione stood so abruptly she knocked the table. Her face burned as it wobbled loudly even with the chatter all around. Pansy didn’t seem to notice. She was looking Hermione over. She wasn’t even being subtle.

The scrutiny made Hermione wish she had put on a cardigan. But it had been too hot and the word carved into her skin only reminded her of her own strength. She could have used a glamour on it, and the one at her neck, but she didn’t like to hide them like Harry liked to hide his scars. Only, with Pansy looking her over, she felt self-conscious of them in ways she didn’t usually.

When they’d parted, Pansy had been so afraid Hermione would die in the war. Perhaps showing her scars was insensitive. She had so nearly died, one misstep and the knife at her throat would have killed her rather than leaving a small scar. She liked to touch it every now and then to remind herself of the power of chance and luck when she got too bogged down in details and likelihoods.

Pansy herself seemed changed. Her bob was gone, she’d grown her hair out. It was loose around her face, a little mussed from the wind. She was wearing muggle clothes a lot more naturally than most witches and wizards did. Hermione had been surprised that the cafe she’d chosen to meet at was muggle. Still too fancy for Hermione’s tastes, but easy enough to find. She’d spent her first ten minutes there trying to figure out why Pansy had chosen it.

Not knowing what to expect, Hermione kept her arms to her side and just smiled when Pansy reached her. A year was a long time. Away from the war, Pansy might have met someone else. Might have loved someone else. Someone her parents would not disapprove of. Someone she didn’t have to keep a secret.

But Pansy just kept coming towards her until they collided. The air was knocked from Hermione as Pansy’s arms looped tightly around her. Pansy pressed her face into Hermione’s neck and slumped against her.

Like a dam bursting, Hermione clung to her in return. The last time they’d been together was the night Dumbledore had closed Hogwarts. Two days later Dumbledore had been dead and Hermione swept away on an impossible mission with Harry and Ron, with barely enough time to think let alone hope Pansy had made it out of the country in those two short days before the war broke out in earnest.

Abruptly, Pansy pulled away.

“There was no word of you until it was all over, you rotten, insensitive witch,” she hissed.

Hermione shivered. If there had been word of her, and by extension, Harry’s, movements they wouldn’t have made it.

“No news is good news when the enemy controls the papers,” she said, reaching out and touching the ends of Pansy’s hair. “No one knew where we were, so _they_ couldn’t find us either.”

Pansy caught her hand and squeezed it tightly. “Over a year on the run, was it horrid? Did you...” Her cheeks flushed pink and she shook her head. “Tea first. I just got out of the International Portkey Office and it was chaos in there. I really need a cuppa.”

Something fluttered in Hermione’s chest. Pansy had only just arrived back in the country and the first thing she’d done was meet with Hermione and hug her? That told her everything she needed to know.

“Oh god, Pansy, I missed you so much,” she said, pulling her into another hug. “I was so scared you didn’t make it out in time. He was killing anyone who tried to run.”

Pansy breathed in sharply, then exhaled, long and shuddering. “We nearly didn’t make it. I don’t know how they knew, but they were breaking into the house as we took the private Portkey out. But that’s nothing. We got out. We didn’t have to go through any of it. Don’t worry about me.”

Hermione pressed her face into her hair. She still smelled the same. “I do worry about you. You know I’m a worrywort.”

Pansy laughed weakly. “Probably the only reason those two idiot boys of yours stayed alive out there.”

Hermione shivered and kissed her neck quickly before pulling back. She gestured at the table and sat down quickly. If she stayed in Pansy’s arms for any longer she’d start snogging her senseless.

Pansy took the seat opposite the tiny table but reached across to take her hand. Her fingers slid past her wrist and up to the raised scars. Hermione watched her trace the letters without speaking. Pansy met her eyes with a hurt expression. Then her attention lowered to Hermione’s neck where another scar stood out plain to see.

“Bellatrix Lestrange,” Hermione whispered, reading the question in her expression. “She’s dead now.”

“Good,” Pansy said, her tone hard. “I hope it wasn’t quick.”

Hermione shivered and went to pull her arm back as the hostess came over. Pansy caught and held her hand tight and didn’t let go. She turned and rattled off an order for the both of them while Hermione stared at their hands. Heat rushed to her cheeks.

When the hostess left the table, Pansy gave her hand a squeeze.

“No secrets now,” she said softly, searching her expression. “If we’re still...if you still want—”

“I do,” Hermione interrupted, not sure if she was saving Pansy from having to find the words, or saving herself from hearing it out loud. Her face was burning. “And I don’t care what anyone has to say about it now.”

Pansy visibly relaxed, but she didn’t let her hand go. When Hermione looked down at it again, Pansy tightened her grip.

“Don’t make me let go yet,” she whispered.

The pain in her voice was mirrored in Hermione’s chest. All of a sudden, she couldn’t bring herself to let go either.

“No,” she said softly. “I won’t ever let you go.”


End file.
